Where You Least Expect It
by LizzieMorewolfe
Summary: Love is the force that binds all living creatures. It has the ability to bring warmth in an iceland and light to darkness. It is present everywhere. And yes, even in S.H.I.E.L.D. agents you thought incapable of love.


**This was kind off inspired by Chapter 2 of my other fic, Death Wish wherein Clint kinda talks about how he wishes that he actually had the guts to say those three words to Natasha. He talks about how he's not even considered normal in S.H.I.E.L.D. standards. It got me to thinking about what is the norm toward relationships/attachments in S.H.I.E.L.D. standards. So here it is, love where you least expect it. Enjoy**

Introduction:

Being a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is never easy. As silly as the statement it, evil never does take a holiday so it doesn't matter whether it's your birthday or if it's your child's graduation. It doesn't even matter if there's a big game showing that night or if the season finale of your favorite TV program is on TV at the moment. The moment your phone rings, these take a step back on your list of priorities.

But it's not just the timing of these events that make the job difficult. There were unspeakable horrors replayed in the mind's eye; bone chilling screams that haunt even the strongest in their darkest nights.

And in those dark moments, sanctuary is never more eagerly craved. This sanctuary, this safe place is only a single word yet it encompasses everything. It provides the warmth that cocoons oneself against the cold brutality of their job. It provides that light, that hope that drives away the shadows, the demons that come with the blood on their hands. This thing is oddly enough, love. It is so laughable to realize that despite their hardened mien and the efficient, apathetic image they exude, they all turned to this emotion at the end of the day.

* * *

Story 1: Suburbia in a Steel and Concrete Jungle

Phil Coulson was a very busy man. He had to clean up after the reputed master of mischief (aka Clint Barton) on a very regularly basis. It didn't help at all that he was also the infamous Black Widow's handler.

And throughout numerous "I thought I told you to handle this situation concerning Barton's aversion to orders" and "Please ensure that Agent Romanoff goes to the med bay for a check-up after her mission next time", he has never failed to remain his usual impassive self. If one didn't know better, you'd be inclined to think that he was secretly an android of some sort. And the thing was, he'd really let you think that

He was a very busy man and SHE was a high ranking agent. It wasn't surprising then that they'd have little time to interact with each other during work hours. A curt nod was all she'd receive when their eyes met across the briefing room. A simple "I'm sorry, ma'am" or "Please excuse me" when they'd bump into each other accidentally in the hallways. They'd only exchange the most perfunctory of greetings whenever conversation was needed.

When a mission ended badly, there would be a fleeting had on the shoulder. There would be no mention of whatever terror they'd witness nor would they show any sign of vulnerability as a result of the events of that mission.

And during their very very long work hours, they were both simply known as "Agent"

However, at the end of the day, when they'd silently walk back to their quarters, they became known as "Papa" and "Mama" respectively to the little blur that would immediately attach himself to them upon their gracing the threshold.

As "Papa" and "Mama" they would always seem to have boundless energy regardless of how the day went and bright smiles would light up their faces. They'd whip up a dinner for little Steve, play hide and seek with him and blow bubbles at him during bath time. Then they would tuck the five year old to bed and kiss him goodnight.

And when that was through, they simply become "Phil" and "Maria". This was when they would talk frankly and freely. There would be genuine smiles on their faces on happier days and there'd be tears being brushed away from their cheeks on bad ones. There were no curt nods, only emphatically waving hands. There would be no fleeting hand on the shoulder, only warm, encompassing hugs or sweet and light kisses. There were no perfunctory greetings, simply an "I love you."

And when that simple phrase is finally uttered, they know then that no matter what happens, no matter what they see or hear at work, they would always be able to come home and just simply be "Phil and Maria."

* * *

Chapter 2: Half of a Whole

Before Nick Fury became the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he was one half of an extremely efficient and well-known partnership. The Chameleon was an enigma; and, as her name implied, she was highly adept at undercover work. In fact, there had been only two instances wherein her cover had been blown. The first one ended with the funeral of a very prominent Englishman. The second had been his initiation. Suffice to say, he passed.

She has always been Hana Clarke to him. Despite her almost flawless ability to blend in, he would somehow always spot her. He would see through her impeccable Southern lilt, blue tinted contact lenses and blonde bob and just simply see the beautifully expressive emerald orbs, the wavy chocolate hair and the secretive smile that she saved just for him.

Their handler didn't even bat an eyelash when they told him that Hana Clarke had to change her personal information seeing as she was Mrs. Hana Fury now.

Everything changed the day she was assigned to a deep cover mission to penetrate the Red Room Project that Hydra had set up. Posing as an assassin for hire turned trainer named, Kristanna Nikolaevna, she became one of the trainers for Hydra's pride and joy, a young red head by the name of Natalia Romanova.

She got in, of course, seamlessly and with very little effort. She was the Chameleon after all.

For two and a half years, Nick Fury had to cope with coming home to an empty house, falling asleep alone and celebrating their anniversary alone. In fact, he came to the point where he just despaired of ever seeing her again.

It was at this point that he received an urgent call to gear up. Agent Clarke had been compromised.

Despite her professionalism, it was a well-known fact that Hana Clarke had a soft spot for children. Without her noticing it, she had grown attached to her young trainee and this was what sealed her fate.

The Russians had heard of the super soldier serum that America had managed to create and were trying to replicate it. The scientists thought that they had managed to create a successful batch and were eager to test it out.

Ms. Romanova was to be their test subject. When Hana discovered it, she grabbed the thirteen year old's hand and ran away as fast as she could towards the safe house that was located 8 miles away from the Hydra base. It wasn't far enough but it would have to suffice seeing as she had been hit on the leg.

They found her of course, but she was able to put up a fight long enough for Natalia to run away. When he got there, she was already a broken mess, bleeding everywhere. They had hurt her enough for her to die, but not enough for it to be a quick, painless death.

He only had enough time to tell her that he loved her before she went up to join the angels.

He blew up the Hydra base that same night. But not before he killed all the men that were in the team that went after her. He lost his left eye that night.

They were married for eight year and partners even longer. On that day each year, he'd disappear from whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. base he was in to go visit her. And sometimes, when the Black Widow happened to not be on a mission, she would go with him too.


End file.
